


Isn't It Romantic?

by MsThunderFrost



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Axel is a sweetheart, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Klaus Hargreeves Needs A Hug, Language of Flowers, Love Confessions, M/M, Number Five | The Boy is So Done, Post-Season/Series 02, Pre-Relationship, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-20
Updated: 2020-09-20
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:47:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26556847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsThunderFrost/pseuds/MsThunderFrost
Summary: “Why are you leaving me flowers?” Axel asks, the next time that they see each other.Klaus purses his lips, “Do you not like them? I know that some men are kinda touchy about receiving flowers, but… I don’t know. I think that everyone should be able to appreciate their beauty.” It’s not an answer to Axel’s question and both of them know it.Axel casts a side-long glance at the hydrangea on the mantle, “It’s not that I don’t like them.” The flowers are beautiful, and have all been picked at full bloom. The only thing that’s upset him thus far is how quickly they seem to die… “Are you aware that there is a language of flowers?”
Relationships: Axel/Klaus Hargreeves
Comments: 4
Kudos: 96





	Isn't It Romantic?

Klaus could admit that it’d taken him awhile to come around to the fact that Axel no longer posed a threat to himself or to his family. Even if Five had convinced him to lay down his arms in 1963, there was still a chance that he could change his mind and decide to seek revenge.

Allison _had_ forced him to kill his own brother, after all. Even if it’d been in self-defense… that was still _cold_.

Even if he _had_ helped Allison to dispose of Otto’s body (meaning there was blood on his hands, too—he wouldn’t even try to deny it) … it didn’t mean that he felt _good_ about it. Klaus was still wracked with guilt for the indirect role he’d played in Ben’s death, even knowing that Ben harbored no ill-will toward any of them for what’d happened. Or maybe it was _because_ he knew that Ben didn’t blame him for his death that he felt particularly guilty every time he set eyes on the monument which marked his grave…

_Whatever_ the case may be, he knows that _he_ would want revenge, if the shoe were on the other foot. While taking another’s life would not replace the one that was lost, it _might_ provide a sort of temporary balm. If the years he’d lost under the haze of alcohol and drugs had taught him anything, it was that any reprieve, even a temporary one, was better than nothing. Not that he was… you know… attempting to encourage Axel to utilize violence and bloodshed as a means of expressing his feelings. He just… He _understands_.

Which is why, the next time their paths cross (because it was only a matter of time until their paths crossed again—Commission agents had a funny (pesky) little habit of being able to track their family down across time and space), he gives him a purple hyacinth.

…He can only hope that he understands what it means.

* * *

“You’re… odd.” Axel’s face is studiously blank as he watches Klaus fiddle with a beautiful Nordic wall tapestry that he absolutely _insists_ he picked up from a thrift store at a terrific bargain.

When Klaus had discovered that the Swede had arrived in 2019, utilizing one of the suitcases left behind in the wake of the massacre on the Cooper’s farm, he’d been quick to volunteer to help him to become acclimated to the new timeline. Still wrought with guilt over his hand in disposing of Otto’s body following his death, he’d decided that this was the best way to try and make amends. Axel seemed… appreciative, if not a bit confused as to why Klaus had gone to such lengths to help him secure housing—

Especially when it seemed as though the other man didn’t have his _own_ home. More often than not, on those days he spent helping to build furniture and stewing for hours over the placement of stupid little knickknacks, he’d end up passed out on Axel’s couch, drooling on a throw pillow that looked like it came out of some grandmother’s sitting room.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” Klaus says, smiling brightly. “I just _love_ this tapestry. Don’t you think it just ties the whole room together?” Axel absolutely doesn’t, but finds that he doesn’t have the heart to say as much out loud.

“Why…?” Either Klaus doesn’t know how to answer his question, or he’s not actually listening. Axel sighs, “Why do you insist on coming here to… _decorate_?” He asks.

“Because I know that your apartment would be positively _spartan_ otherwise.” Klaus rolls his eyes, “If you’re intent on staying here, at least for the time being, why not allow yourself to be comfortable? You certainly have enough money saved up from all of those Commission assignments…”

“And you certainly enjoy _spending_ my money.” He doesn’t sound upset. More… fondly exasperated.

“The best part of having money is being able to _spend_ it, love.” Klaus says, “You can save and save until your blue in the face, but money’s no use to you when you’re dead.” He flinches a bit, as if it takes him a moment to realize exactly what he’d just said. “I’m sorry, I—,”

But Axel just shakes his head, “Don’t apologize.” He says, “It’s not like you’re wrong.”

Klaus looks like he wants to say something anyway. Before he can, he catches a glimpse of purple out of the corner of his eye. There, on the mantle, directly above a roaring fire, is a wilting purple hyacinth. It’d been placed in a small, ovular vase—he recognizes it almost immediately as one that he’d ordered off of Wish a couple of weeks ago. So he’d kept it, all this time. Klaus’ heart leaps up into his throat, the warmth of tears prickling in the corners of his eyes. The purple hyacinth meant: ‘I’m sorry, please forgive me.’

He replaces it with a white hydrangea before he leaves later that night.

* * *

“Why are you leaving me flowers?” Axel asks, the next time that they see each other.

Klaus purses his lips, “Do you not like them? I know that some men are kinda touchy about receiving flowers, but… I don’t know. I think that everyone should be able to appreciate their beauty.” It’s not an answer to Axel’s question and both of them know it.

Axel casts a side-long glance at the hydrangea on the mantle, “It’s not that I don’t like them.” The flowers are beautiful, and have all been picked at full bloom. The only thing that’s upset him thus far is how quickly they seem to die… “Are you aware that there is a language of flowers?”

Klaus nods, “I am. Of course I am. I’ve picked these out for you hoping that _you_ knew it, too.” He says, “The purple hyacinth means ‘I’m sorry’, and the white hydrangea means—,”

“’Thank you for understanding’.” Axel helpfully supplies.

“Yeah… That…”

He doesn’t know how to explain the maelstrom of emotions building inside of him to the other man. He doesn’t know how to convey the guilt that he feels for his hand in Axel’s anguish, because he knows that, if he were somehow able to return to that exact moment in 1963 where he’d offered to help Allison dispose of Otto’s body… he’d do it again.

He knows that he doesn’t have the right to stand before the other man and apologize for what happened when he’d do it all again, in a heartbeat, to save his sister. And he knows, from being around the other man for the past couple of weeks, that Axel is one good conversation away from a complete breakdown. He hasn’t allowed himself the chance to properly mourn his brothers (well… Klaus is assuming that he hasn’t—there’s a considerable blank period between when he and his siblings left him in 1963 and when they were reunited in 2019 where pretty much anything could have happened) and it shows.

One of the half-dozen strays that Axel has smuggled into the apartment nuzzles at Klaus’ leg, perhaps looking for food. He squats down to offer the sweet feline a few head scritches, while taking a moment to consider the few items that Axel has contributed to his… rather _eclectic_ decorating job. There’re about six or seven black and white photos scattered about, all featuring the triplets at various stages of their pre-Commission lives.

He doesn’t talk about the pictures, but it’s clear that they’re the only items in the entire apartment he actually cares about.

“There are… things that I _want_ to say, but can’t. Things that extend beyond the language barrier.” He says. “Flowers… seemed like the easiest way to bridge the gap. Plus, you have to admit, they’re _very_ pretty.”

Axel looks like he wants to say something. “Pretty… yes.” Though, from where he’s staring, it’s unclear whether he is referring to the flowers… or to Klaus.

“Do you want me to order out something for dinner?” Klaus does his best to try and steer the conversation in a different direction. Ordinarily, when he spends the day at Axel’s, Axel will make him dinner (Klaus’ one serious attempt at cooking anything had resulted in him nearly burning down the apartment).

“Hmm.” Axel doesn’t answer him. At least, not right away. Instead, he produces a bright pink petunia and hands it to the other man. “Here.”

The corner of Klaus’ mouth twitches. Petunias are… peculiar flowers. They could mean resentment… anger… but also that the giver found a person’s presence to be soothing. He twirls the stem between his thumb and forefinger, considering. “Um… what does—?”

Axel shrugs, “You decide.”

* * *

The next day, Axel isn’t there. In fact, he’s out of residence for the rest of the week.

Klaus still hasn’t decided what he wants the flower to mean. He kind of wants to believe that Axel finds his presence soothing, but… if he’s being realistic, no-one has _ever_ found his presence soothing. He is the bane of his siblings’ existence, the butt of their jokes… the source of endless exasperation when he’s high, and a chore when he’s attempting to get sober. It would only make sense that Axel would find his presence to be annoying—even angering. And this… this was just him being too nice to tell Klaus all of that to his face.

Without the threat of an Apocalypse looming over their heads, once they’d returned to 2019, the siblings had once again scattered to the wind. Though she calls every once in a blue moon, Klaus hasn’t seen Allison in weeks—his sister having returned to California to see Claire after being separated from her by years and misplaced timelines. Vanya and Diego were gone as well. Luther had insisted that he stay at the Academy so that he might have a roof over his head, but now that he’s had a taste of the outside world, he’s out of residence enough that Klaus spends most of the time by himself…

Well, aside from those occasions when Five decides to materialize at the bar after weeks of radio silence to sip on martinis and not-so-silently judge him for his life choices.

“You _would_ fall for the head of the IKEA mafia.” Five sighs, looking incredibly put-upon. Klaus splutters, looking as though he wants to contest Five’s assertion, but the older just shakes his head. “You wouldn’t be this upset about the possible double meaning of a damned flower if you didn’t feel _something_ for him—,”

Klaus shakes his head, “I-I feel sorry for the hand that I played in making him suffer. Nobody deserves that.”

Five rolls his eyes, “That may well be, but I think that Axel has made it quite clear that he’s already forgiven you for whatever roll you played in his brother’s death.” He says, “You’re still upset because you’re in love with him.”

That’s ludicrous. He cannot be in _love_ with him. The only serious relationship he’s had, where there was even something remotely close to love, was with Dave, and—

He remembers standing there, with the dog tags, attempting to convince Dave that he would die a horrible death in the heat of battle should he go ahead and enlist.

He remembers Dave shoving the dog tags back into his hand as he called him a charlatan—a _scam artist_.

He remembers how he’d wanted, so desperately, for Dave to forgive him for not being strong enough, not being _skilled_ enough, to save him from his fate. Maybe if he hadn’t of had a power as useless as being able to commune with the dead, he would’ve been able to save Dave’s life the first time.

He remembers the overwhelming desire to not have anyone else feel as _hopeless_ … as _useless_ as he did in that moment. _Especially_ not Axel. Because he…

“I fucking love Axel.” He breathes, the realization washing over him like a tidal wave. It feels like a ten-ton weight has been lifted off of his shoulders, just to be able to say it out loud. But then, “Shit. Is it… too soon for the ‘l’ word?”

Five levels him blankly, “As long as it’s consensual, I really don’t _care_ how you define whatever it is that’s going on between the two of you.” He takes a sip of his martini, “At least he’s better than Lila.”

“Aww… that may be the kindest thing you’ve ever said to me.” He knows that that’s as close to a ‘blessing’ as he’ll get out of his finicky brother, but he doesn’t mind. He’s been weathering Five’s left-handed compliments for so many years, he thinks he might actually faint if he ever came out and told him something genuinely _nice_.

“…I didn’t miss this.” Five grumbles, barely able to steady his martini as Klaus wraps him in a tight embrace that nearly takes him clean off of his chair.

* * *

Klaus gives Axel a blood red tulip.

Axel gives Klaus a blue aster.

They stare into each other’s eyes for a moment, before Klaus leans forward and brushes his lips over Axel’s in a tentative caress. It is by far the softest kiss that Klaus has ever had, even with Dave, and when he draws back, his lips are tingling. He doesn’t realize that there are tears dripping down his cheeks until Axel brushes them away with the calloused pad of his thumb… And despite it all, he finds himself laughing. Axel studies him for a moment, a strange look on his face, before his lips curl up into the slightest of smiles.

“I lo—,” Axel places a finger over Klaus’ lips, effectively silencing him. The corners of Klaus’ mouth begin to turn down in the beginnings of a frown—it’s possible that he could’ve misread the situation, but he’s fairly certain that asters are a symbol of love…

“Don’t say it. Not yet.” Axel says. He moves his hand to Klaus’ wrist, and tenderly massages to smaller man’s pulse point. “Stay.” It’s not a question. And Klaus needs no time to consider his response.

_“Yes.”_


End file.
